Dovin Baan was alone in his Ravnican safe house, waiting for Vraska to return. Not that he wasn’t keeping busy in the meantime. He was using his thopters to fashion a mechanical right hand to replace the hand the gorgon had taken. After that, he would set to work on creating some magical-mechanical devices to replace his lost eyes. His thopters all had optics, so he believed it should not be too difficult once he figured out the interface.
Baan was mildly annoyed with Vraska for cutting off his hand—it had not been part of his plan—but he could not deny the wisdom of her action. Hard evidence of his demise would certainly lend credence to Vraska and Nalaar’s story, and if the Golgari queen had told him of her intent in advance, he might have been reluctant to comply. Baan was in fact slightly embarrassed that his own fear of further mutilation had blinded him to the need for such an action. And in any case, learning to perfect himself with no eyes and only one hand would be an interesting—if brief—challenge.
Beyond that, Regatha had gone exactly as he had expected it to go. For Baan, it was child’s play to get Nalaar to attempt to incinerate him and simple enough to let the conflagration hide his planeswalking, while a pre-planted thopter projected an illusion of light, depicting his charred corpse sinking into the lava.
Now his safety was assured, and his mind would be occupied, as raising the unruly Golgari to perfection presented an intriguing and tantalizingly complex puzzle.
Baan noticed a slight rise in temperature in the room.
Is someone here?
“Vraska?” he called out. There was no response.
Baan listened for a breath, for a heartbeat.
Nothing.
No one was there.
Dovin Baan decided it was the inconsistent Ravnican weather combined with the shoddy construction of the building. He would have to create something to regulate the temperature of his domicile.
The thought of making his new home more efficient brought a smile to his face…